Little White Lie
by OfLoveAndLies
Summary: There's a new head chef at the Iceberg Lounge. At first, she hopes that she will be able to lay low and get her job done. No such luck. OC with mild traces of AU. T for violence.
1. Prologue

**Why, 'ello there, dear reader. This is the prologue to my newest story. No hints for you, until chapter one. Interested? **

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><p>In life, there are moths and there are flames. The majority of us are moths; fluttering around, looking for answers. Some sort of satisfaction, to make us feel like we matter, in the grand scheme of things. We don't care how hot or bright the flames are, as long as we're kept warm and safe in our own little illusion that nothing's wrong. That our lives are the way we've always dreamt them to be. We can't be reasoned with. Not really. In fact, even if we do realize how harmful the flames are for us, we won't stop trying to reach them until we fall to the ground. Dead.<p>

Flames, on the other hand, yearn for the worship we moths are more than happy to provide. Their eternal lust for our attentions cannot be smothered. Not even by the rain that befalls them, when they realize that they are just one small flicker of the universe. Their tendrils of heat will flare towards us moths fervently. Desperately. And we will comply. We will throw ourselves into the flame, to prove its worth, because we seek our own answers. _Perhaps,_ we think, _this is all there is. _And it will be, because we cannot reach the conclusions to our own answers. We can only guess and wonder. And hope we're right.

We're all fools without answers. And sometimes…

Sometimes, when all you have is questions, you're drawn to the ones with all the answers.

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><p>"Ms. Portelli?"<p>

"That's me."

"Any relation to-"

"If you have to know, yes, but whatever my family feels the need to do is none of my concern. I just want to put it out there and inform you that I don't, nor will I ever, have any interest in that line of work."

"So you are-"

"Ugh. Yes; my father."

"Alright; good to know. Let's get this interview underway, shall we?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

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><p>…<strong>How 'bout now? Maybe? I PROMISE that this is not an "I'm the daughter of <strong>**insert Rouge here.**** I'm just not into writing those. Also, I apologize for the melodramatic prose, at the beginning. It helps to hint at the story's vibe, and I made it for the purpose for this story, so enjoy nonetheless. **


	2. Unlikely Interview

**Disclaimer: I do now own any of the Batman franchises, nor do I have anything to do with the Taser company** **(yes, it's a company. I didn't know, either.). Thank DC Comics and Taser International Inc.**

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><p>Linny was having a pretty damn good day. She got to sleep in 'til nine, had had a successful interview at the Black Diamond restaurant for a job as a chef, and now she had the rest of the day to herself. The twenty three year old was just as likely to sit at home and read a book as to go out on her friend Maria's padded v-hull, but on that particular day, she felt the need to relax. Her mind made up, she hopped into her victory red Chevy Imperial, heading towards a little known creek on the outskirts of town she liked to consider hers.<p>

After a quiet afternoon of lying out by the water, Linny had been in a very good mood. That was, however, until her car decided to overheat in the middle of an abandoned part of town. She was sure she was by the docks and the thought did notcomfort her.

"You have _got _to be kidding me. You have a five year warranty, you piece of junk!" She muttered, glaring at the green-eyed woman in the mirror. This woman had identical strawberry blonde hair framing a pale face with high cheekbones. Her round eyes and slight bone structure she had inherited from her father; her hair and pale skin had been the reflection of her mother's.

Linny sighed. It was warmer than usual for a day in April and she really didn't want to be bent over an overheating engine.

"It can't be helped, I guess." She pocketed her trusty Taser and grabbed the bottle of water sitting in the cup holder. Then, looking around cautiously for any unwanted company and finding none, she popped the hood release and stepped out of the car.

Steam was billowing out of the radiator, which was a good sign that only the coolant system was overheated, but she still had to wait for it to cool on its own. The only thing she could do was crank the heating system way up and wait.

The young woman was fine with waiting, but doing so without fidgeting was a feat, all its own. Linny took the time to look around and realize that every building in the surrounding area was some sort of abandoned warehouse or factory. All but two, that was; one being a grungy looking liquor store and the other some lounge called The Iceberg. She wondered idly who would drive all the way out there just for a drink and subpar food.

_Not me. _She blanched and quickly decided that the radiator was cool enough when a car turned onto the same street from a far corner. Keeping an eye on said car, she unscrewed the necessary cap and poured the needed amount of water into the coolant reservoir tank, then recapped it and slammed the hood shut. She thought she had gotten off, scot-free, until the sound of tires squealing to a stop halted her hand as it balanced precariously on the car handle.

_Don't do it, Linny; don't turn around. _She _knew _she shouldn't have done it, and she _knew _she would be facing the consequences, but she did it anyway. If she was pale before, then the shade she turned was borderline neon, once she realized the magnitude of her mistake.

Oswald Cobblepot, one of the richest and nastiest of Gotham's Rogues gallery, was standing not even ten feet away from her. The general population was under the impression that he had turned over a new leaf, but she distinctly remembered the voicemail her father had left, warning her that Mr. Cobblepot was only using his reform as a front.

_Holy mother of-_ She tried not to display any physical signs of apprehension, thinking how ironic it was that she was now using the advice her father had left her.

Never _show your enemies your fear. And for the love of _God_, Aislinn, if a Rogue approaches you, run the other way. Nine times out of ten, you're going to wind up dead._

_Thanks, Dad, but I'm kinda' cornered here. _

Her father had only worked with one of the city's most wanted, that being Harvey Dent aka Two Face, but he wasn't there at the moment so Linny couldn't use her family name to her advantage. Hell, she was sure that _he_ wouldn't have given a damn _who _she was, anyway, so that little tidbit was of no consequence.

_That's the trouble with crazy people; there are way too many of them, in this city, and they seem to be multiplying. The more new villains fail at trying to take over Gotham, the more of a ruckus the already known ones make. That's without mentioning all the wealth they seem to be accumulating, through illegal and other assorted activities, and _this _guy is no exception._

The noticeably taller woman sent the grotesque man a neutral yet cautious smile, one hand on the hood of her car and the other gripping the Taser in her pocket.

"Well, what do we have here? A lost dove?" She couldn't _believe _he was comparing her to a _bird. _Her hold on her Taser tightened and she reminded herself of the two very large bodyguards that flanked him on either side.

"What? No, I'm a local. I was just taking care of some car trouble." She saw him nod to himself as a shrewd smirk stretched his pointed tooth filled mouth.

"Couldn't afford to call a mechanic, on your salary?" Linny could tell that he was fishing for information, but she continued to play dumb, wanting to see where this was going.

"Oh, I could afford it. I just don't have a current salary, right now." A sense of pride washed over her as she successfully squashed the revulsion she felt when the Penguin took a few steps forward.

"Had a job interview recently, Ms. Portelli?" The blonde's spine stiffened at her surname. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as her cheeks began to heat up in irritation. She hated puns, but the whole situation was becoming pretty fishy.

"At the Black Diamond, yes. How do you know my family name?" The balding man let out a harsh laugh that sounded more like a bird honking.

"I _own _the Black Diamond, Ms. Portelli. I'm also aware of your affiliation with the Portelli family. Despite your regrettable estrangement, you certainly are the daughter of a mob boss, which you have proven to me through means of your impeccable professionalism." The blood promptly drained from Linny's face. Her father's chosen lifestyle was not something she was proud of, nor was it something she openly shared with anyone who knew her, so to be called out on it was more than a little embarrassing. Knowing she'd been found out, Linny dropped her façade and leaned the rest of her weight against the car, an amused smile sliding across her face.

"Your attentiveness is something to be admired, Mr. Cobblepot. Most people would have simply assumed I was a life-long city girl and left it at that. So, do I meet the qualifications?" She inquired, the note of humor in her voice well disguising the worry she felt. The Penguin smiled at her well-polished flattery, but the expression quickly dissolved into a stern frown.

"No." He turned sharply to leave, at which point Linny's face fell and she slumped against the car's roof, defeated. Just as she was starting to despair, he turned back around, amused by his own sick sense of humor.

"I can't have the daughter of one of the most infamous mob bosses working at one of my 'cleaner' establishments. They're overstaffed, as it is, so you would've gotten booted, in a matter of weeks.

We are, however, in need of a chef at the Iceberg. Someone who's competent enough, to fillet a flounder, and not forget to remove the damn intestinal tract!" Cobblepot looked downright infuriated, so Linny did her best to tread lightly as she asked a follow-up question.

"Why trust me enough to cook for you and your clientele? I am, after all, loosely associated with the Italian mafia." It was a biting remark and she felt a smarting sensation when saying it. The sneering man let out another series of honks and then continued.

"Because, Ms. Portelli, I'm now just as familiar with your background as you are with mine. If, per chance, one of my patrons happens to die mysteriously after visiting my lounge," he cast her a falsely endearing smile that promised trouble, "then the same might just happen to you or someone dear to you. Besides, your sense of humor is one I can actually tolerate and that _body_…" Linny failed to refrain from convulsing as his eyes raked over her figure, "Isn't too hard on the eyes." She leveled him a look of contempt.

There was nothing comment worthy of the black dress pants and white button down blouse shirt she had decided on for her interview. He was being a pig on purpose. She shrugged to herself-she really needed the job, so if a little meaningless perversion was in order, then she would let it be.

"When do I start?"

"Tonight. I'm having an-er-a conference, of sorts. At midnight." The abrupt start of her new job was a little shocking, but Linny plowed on, unperturbed as always by the forces surrounding her.

"You've got it. I'll come an hour earlier to prepare and familiarize myself with the menu." Making a backwards retreat towards the driver's seat of her car, Linny kept a firm grip on her defensive weapon, her eyes trained on the untrustworthy man.

"See you then." Simply the way he spoke sounded like some creepy promise and she allowed a shiver to pass through her. She paused to crank the AC up, maneuver a k-turn, and speed off.

"Ugh, what did I just do to myself?" She agonized, checking the clock and letting out a groan. It was already nine PM and her apartment was approximately thirty minutes away from the street she was currently tearing down.

"Just enough time for a shower." She decided. Her mind was continuously buzzing with questions and possibilities, but she let it, having nothing better to do.

"As long as I don't botch an order, I'll be safe in the kitchen, right? The Penguin's filthy rich; there has to be plenty of wait staff. But-wait a minute…I'm most likely going to be cooking for most, if not, all members of the Rogues Gallery. If I mess up an order…" Linny gasped and swerved to avoid an oncoming car in the lane she had been drifting into. Cursing quietly at herself, she made the next right, intent on making it to her first day on the job in time.

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><p><strong>Here we are; the first update. I will say that this story is a bit (if not, a lot) AU, but not absurd or nonsensical. Just a medley of our favorite characters. Reviewssubscriptions are appreciated!**


	3. Introductions

Several factors contributed to Linny arriving on time: a detour leading close to the district she was headed to, the fact that she already had a uniform laid out from her previous job, and plain dumb luck. She caught herself smiling victoriously as she parked in the side lot provided for employees only. Her radio clock read 10:55PM and Linny all but hesitated as she crossed the lot and easily slipped into the front entrance of the Iceberg Lounge, eyes widening as she took in the interior.

A definite arctic theme was in affect throughout the entire lounge, from the tinted blue lights, to the walls that had replicas of the Northern lights dancing across them. The stools at the bar resembled large icicles and Linny could have sworn she saw an actual penguin hobbling down a hallway from the corner of her eye.

_That_ has _to be a direct violation of the health code. _Linny mused, realizing that she had been standing at the entrance of the building and looking like an idiot, for the past two minutes. Muttering angrily to herself, the blonde-haired woman walked over to the bar, seeing as the rest of the lounge seemed deserted. Keeping a casual smile on her face, Linny leaned a hand against the bar; matching the curious gaze the man behind the counter was sending her.

"I'm here to see Mr. Cobblepot. Could you point me in the right direction?" She inquired, polite and friendly as ever with a persistent undertone promising that she wasn't willing to walk away so easily. The man, who looked about five years her senior, clearly wasn't willing to cooperate. He gave a skeptical snort and resumed wiping down the already spotless counter.

"Now, why would I reveal the location of my employer to some random broad, who just wandered in here from off the street? That would be a little irresponsible, on my part, unless I knew for what reason, if any, you have to speak with him." The slightly put-off woman didn't like to jump to conclusions, but as first impressions went, the one she had of the bald man standing in front of her wasn't topping the charts.

_Can you say 'cynical'? _Letting out a quiet sigh, Linny pulled out a small rectangular folder from the bag slung around her shoulder, an insistent grin spreading across her lips as the man's brow quirked upward.

"I'm the new chef here. Mr. Cobblepot hired me this morning. It would be unfortunate if I was held up at this bar, for too long, and failed to prepare the food for his patrons in time. Then I would have to explain myself to the higher-ups, and I _always _speak honestly, so your name might come up," she double-checked his nametag and smiled smugly, "Phil."

Phil looked rather confused as he studied the certificate stating that she had earned her Bachelor's degree in the culinary arts. His gaze slowly lifted to match Linny's and she could still see stubborn doubt lacing his features.

"But you're so…"

"Young? I get that a lot. I started studying culinary in high school. Now, if you're done profiling me-" The slow, deliberate, sound of clapping caused Linny to fall silent and crane her head to the side, finding the exact person she was looking for.

"Nice to see you on time, Ms. Portelli. I assume that no one gave you any _trouble_ on your way here?" The short man was glaring suspiciously at Phil, whose eyes were wide with fear, but the woman kept her pleasant smile in place.

"Not at all, Mr. Cobblepot. Phil here was just demonstrating the admirable loyalty I'm sure he has for you." She brushed off his suspicion easily and plowed onwards, not one to be easily distracted from a conversation topic. The short man "humphed" and started walking towards the hall she had seen the tuxedoed bird hobble down. Shrugging to Phil, who was now staring warily at her, Linny slightly trailed behind her new boss. She wasn't too keen on the idea of him staring at her ass, so she made sure to not move too far ahead, seeing as she had no idea which direction they were headed, anyway.

"Phil seems like a real character." She remarked, trying to avoid any opportunities for a bout of awkward silence to set in.

"Who? The bartender? Huh, you haven't seen anything yet." She was sure that she knew whom he was referring to, and felt a pang of panic stab at her unconscious, but brushed it off as first day jitters.

_Safe in the kitchen, safe in the kitchen…_She wanted to kick someone as the two rounded the corner.

The kitchen before her was immaculate. Linny was not happy with the appearance of its current staff, however. The two women and two men looked like they had been dragged in from the Narrows. She saw that one of the women was wearing sweats and bristled at the outrage.

"Well, they don't look like much, but they're what we've got for now, so play nicely. As for the rest of you; this is Aislinn Portelli. You may have seniority, but she's head chef, so don't make any problems for her if she assigns you a task." Linny puffed herself up as four sets of eyes landed on her. They seemed just as wary of Linny as she was of them-a reoccurring theme of the people working at the Iceberg-and she somehow figured that she was going to be the one to break the ice.

Ironically, as soon as everyone's attention was on her, an insistent beeping emanated from his suit pocket and her new employer excused himself to take care of an urgent matter.

_Well, here goes nothing..._She put on a professional manner while keeping her easygoing smile. One or two of her coworkers had awkwardly returned to their workstations, but Linny was not going to be ignored, so she allowed her voice to travel as she spoke.

"So, my name is Aislinn, but everyone calls me Linny. What do you guys go by?" The red haired woman was the most willing to answer for her colleagues. She grinned back at Linny's disarming manner and leaned half her weight on the counter island in the center of the room.

"Well, welcome to the team. I'm Amy; Sous chef. The hood rat over there, Bailey, is our Senior chef. Mark is our pastry chef and the guy still working over there, Caleb, is our prep cook. There's a few more prep cooks, but we're the top dogs, so I guess you're the Alpha now." Linny smiled in greeting and noticed that Bailey was glowering over in Amy's direction for the "hood rat" comment.

_There seems to be some tension in the work place. I wonder what brought this on? _She was curious; just not dumb enough to stick her nose in other people's business.

Linny walked towards Caleb, frowning at the halfhearted way he was dicing the onions in front of him, before continuing.

"Well, I only have about an hour to settle myself in, here. Who wants to give me a rundown of the menu?"

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><p>At this point in the night, Linny didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried, concerning the menu. Most of the meal items were standard cookbook stuff, and since this was true, she almost didn't want to acknowledge the fact that there were massive corners being cut.<p>

_I don't care if this place is a cesspool. This is my kitchen, now, right? It's time to do some ass kicking. _Centering herself, Linny zipped around, making friendly but insistent suggestions while preparing her own station for the main courses. She started from the "bottom," where the start of her troubles was, lightly placing her hand on Caleb's shoulder.

"Hey, you'll want to cut that zucchini a little thicker, if it's going to cook right." She hinted, indicating with her fingers the width each slice should have been. The prep cook nodded, seeming to see her point, and then continued his task, albeit more efficiently. Linny felt herself smile and moved on to Bailey's work station. The other woman looked up and Linny knew there was bound to be trouble when she noticed the sneer on Bailey's face.

"Whacha' working on?" Linny asked casually, a smile spreading across her face, as an irritated look crossed the other woman's.

"A specialty of mine: chicken cordon bleu. It's a favorite of one of our VIP's." Taking a moment to appreciate the expertise Bailey put into rolling the thinly sliced strips of chicken around the Swiss cheese, Linny nodded thoughtfully, before presenting a tentative question.

"Is that vegetarian fed chicken or pasture-raised chicken?"

"How should I know?"

"You don't know how to tell the difference?" She asked, watching as the other woman visibly bristled.

"There's no difference; it's all chicken! Who cares if it's vegetarian fed chicken?" Linny was a little put off by the outburst, but she remained patient, a hapless smile stretching across her face.

"I do; there's less fat naturally generated in the pasture-raised chicken. Vegetarian fed chicken is less nutrient-dense, and the term usually goes hand in hand with the fact that the chicken was raised in a cage, until it came into its slaughter age." The calm expression waivered on Linny's face as Bailey let out a harsh laugh.

"Listen, Hun, just because your rich parents could afford to put you through culinary school, doesn't give you the right to flaunt your knowledge about meaningless crap no on here cares about. Amy and I have been here for three years and no one's ever complained about the way we cook." Linny was tempted to shoot back that she did _not _rely on her family to pay for her schooling, and was currently paying her mountain of school loans back, but decided to let it slide. Continuing to appear outwardly calm, Linny grabbed a slice of the chicken, much to the disbelief of the other chefs.

"This," she began, ripping halfway into the chicken, "is mostly fat. No one wants a mouthful of fat when he or she bites into _blue ribbon chicken_. I'm not saying this to show off; I'm saying this so this place isn't referred to as 'that dump downtown.' Whatever intentions the Penguin has doesn't pertain to my motives. I'm here to cook good food." The sneer Bailey cast her made Linny's hand tighten into a fist. There was a moment of tension before the brunette spoke.

"This is just a hobby for you, little rich girl, so why don't you get out of the kitchen before you get burned? I'm sure if you go back crying to your daddy, he'll give you your allowance." Her friends would have gladly provided proof that she was hardheaded, persistent, and even loyal. The daughter of a mob boss was not well known, however, for her tolerance of rudeness. Bailey's words were the match that set Linny's Hellfire off.

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><p><strong>Hello there! I bet a few-or more-of you are asking yourselves "Where are my Rogues!" Well, they're in the next chapter. It's also when things get a lot more exciting. Promise. 'Til then! <strong>

**-Jess**


	4. Challenge

After about five minutes of flour, eggs, and raw meat flying about the kitchen like a tempest of cooking supplies, Phil was called to the back, and the fight was promptly ended. Both temperamental women were covered head to toe in previously mentioned supplies but were, nevertheless, easy for Phil to pry apart.

"Funny thing is, the boss just asked for me to escort you to the meeting room, isn't that a coincidence?" Linny, now eerily calm, let out a single harsh laugh as Bailey glared at her. The green-eyed woman had gotten a good shot of the other woman's nose while propelling half a ham at her and it was still gushing blood.

Soon, after winding through several dark halls, they came to a pair of half opened double doors. Phil took the risk of releasing Linny's arm and knocked three times, before maneuvering the two women into the room, a stoic expression replacing the amused one on his face.

"Well, I got her, but there seemed to have been an, uh, disagreement between these two." Bailey instantly snarled something, her bloody nose making the words unintelligible to Linny's ears, but she did not miss the droplets of blood landing on her face from the outburst.

"Ew." She muttered, her attention finally turning to the other individuals in the room, but froze when she realized that practically every member of the Gotham Rogues gallery was staring at her with varying levels of interest. She had expected as much, but the visual of them all in the same room was much more intimidating than she had imagined.

_No Rogues. No Rogues. No Rogues! _The words blared in her mind as clearly as her father had said it. Her eyes danced from person to person and she counted seven in total, not including the henchmen and women she saw standing against the wall behind the arch shaped table their bosses were seated at. Harvey Dent aka Two Face, the Riddler, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, the Joker, Harley Quinn, and the Penguin, all in that order. Harley was seated contently on the Joker's lap, the Riddler seemed to be concocting something in his head, Two Face seemed to be arguing with himself, and the Scarecrow and Poison Ivy looked just plain bored. Linny zeroed in on her new employer as he began speaking and blinked a few times as she snapped back into reality.

"-been making impressive first impressions already, Ms. Portelli?" Linny's eye twitched at the used of her surname and she noticed half of Mr. Dent's face contort in realization. An amused smirk slipped through her emotionless mask as she noticed a less amused one on Bailey's face.

"Of course. My coworker made it absolutely unavoidable." She replied, casting the brooding woman a mocking smile as she tried to swipe at Linny, only to be held back by Phil.

"Don't tack the blame on me, you bitch! You started-!" A swift kick to the other woman's gut, which Phil just missed blocking, silenced her raving.

"The hell I did." Linny countered, still riled up enough to use physical violence against the brazen woman. She typically avoided becoming physical with anyone, as doing so meant that you were unable to use words to sort things out, but Linny knew her words were lost on Bailey. She found herself zoning in and out of reality as the Penguin went on about something to do with "three chances" and "feeding the penguins." Linny then tuned back in as she heard another voice interject, and turned her gaze towards the green clad man to her far left.

"Since their offences are so similar in nature, why don't you hold a contest, to determine which of these lovely ladies will face the consequences of their actions? It will certainly lighten up this dull meeting." Linny did not approve of that notion, whatsoever. She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by her employer, giving her little room to interrupt. Feigning loyal compliance, she cast a glance towards Bailey, who looked much smaller and paler than she had.

Linny had read enough news articles involving every Rogue in the room to know that they weren't to be messed with. She was also aware that either compliance or resistance delivered you to the same fate: insanity or death. Either being inflicted upon her, she knew, would send her father into a hellfire of crime. She had witnessed what her father could do, on a bad day, and it was nothing she wanted for the citizens of Gotham.

Linny wanted to ask the bleeding woman to her right what was happening. Before the chance arose, she was gripped firmly by the shoulders and sat, smack dab in the middle of Scarecrow and Harvey Dent himself. Not that she was worse off; Bailey was _lucky _enough to have gotten sandwiched between the Joker (and Harley) and Poison Ivy. Then, just as the question bubbled to the front of Linny's mind, a pencil and a piece of paper were placed on the table in front of her.

"Sudoku." She deadpanned, a burning hatred for the number game deep-set into her mind, even if she wasn't terrible at it. Numbers were overrated, unless they related to ingredient measurements.

What did confuse her, however, was why the same had been chosen for their contest. She felt as if her intelligence was being underestimated and couldn't help feeling offended.

Linny could have sworn she heard Bailey ask "What the hell's Sudoku?" but chose to focus on the Riddler's prattling. Everyone else was just looking at her funny; she had to find some way to take the attention off herself.

"Yes, Sudoku. This is not your typical version of Sudoku, however. The objective of this game is to find the most correct number matches, without being knocked unconscious, or otherwise incapacitated." Linny's suspicions spiked and she grabbed hold of her stationary equipment, her gaze dead set on the green clad man, as he stood smirking at her. "You have twenty minutes: Begin!" The chair she had been sat in thankfully had wheels, making it easier to use full force of her legs, to propel herself backwards. She managed to both avoid the vapor form of fear toxic aimed at her face, as well a bowl over a henchman, who had been trying to sneak up on her. Uncontrolled laughter burst out from where Bailey was-the poor wench-but Linny didn't waste any time in darting out of the room, slamming the doors shut and using a felt rope pole to barricade them.

As she ran, she scanned over the paper in her hands, surprised and confused that it was only a medium difficulty set. She scribbled down the ones she knew to be right before going to look for a decent hiding spot.

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><p>Somehow ending up in a large airshaft, Linny was doing her best to remain silent as she scribbled and erased from the paper in front of her, using the slanted light coming in from the other side of the vent. She had seen a few frenzied goons run past her hiding spot, shouting at each other in frustration, but wasn't about to say anything to them.<p>

At the start of the twenty minutes, Linny had run further than anticipated, so she was moving to a different vent each time she solved a square of the number puzzle, hoping it lead closer to the conference room.

_Why am I even trying? Bailey is obviously incapacitated, already, and I don't think she's ever even _seen _a Sudoku puzzle before. _Linny shrugged and used the excuse that it passed the time, which would be up in-she checked her watch-about six minutes or so.

"Time to get going," she whispered, confirming that the coast was clear, before popping the vent out of the wall and awkwardly stumbling to her feet. She was spotted in a matter of seconds, of course, but that particular hallway was wide enough to allow her to dart past any goons that tried to grab her.

"Can't touch this." Linny mocked, running past another goon, but groaned as the song lodged itself in her head. Then, as she went to round a corner, a heavy weight tackled her to the ground, knocking the breath out of her lungs and leaving her gasping like a fish out of water.

"Shi-!" Even while disoriented, she noticed someone trying to remove the paper from her clutched fists, her first reaction being to stab that person with her pencil. Whoever it was reeled back, screaming profanities and threats, which gave Linny enough time to clumsily stuff the paper into her pants pocket.

"Forget the paper," a booming voice instructed, "The boss said to get 'er back to the conference room, before the twenty minutes are up. You dumbasses know what happens when the boss don't get what he wants." She still wasn't sure about many things, but Linny guessed that she had been slung over someone's arm like a very messy purse. She tried not to move much, seeing as she still couldn't breathe properly, but vowed revenge on whoever this "boss" was.

By the time Linny could inhale, without any pain coming from it, they were back in the conference room. The thug carrying her none-too-gently shoved the doors open, and tossed her to the floor, causing another coughing fit due to her still recovering lungs.

"We got 'er, Boss." Mr. Thug announced, as if no one had noticed, an edge of nervousness in his voice. Linny wasn't down for long, though, and determinedly stood before angrily throwing the pencil at her brutish escort. She then turned around and, with a hell-bent look on her face, marched up to where the Riddler was reclined in his chair. She slammed the paper down in front of him, a small, content smile replacing her determined expression. A quick glance over to the unconscious Bailey made Linny feel confident, but she was dealing with a bunch of Rogues, so there had to be a catch. The man in the green suit scanned over the rudely presented paper, a frown on his face, before quirking a brow.

After a moment of tensely staring at each other, one put off and the other expectant, Linny turned towards Cobblepot.

"Pretty sure I won; Can I go now, or are you going to further deprive your-er-companions of better-than-mediocre food?" The older man visibly bristled, but then relaxed into a malicious grin, nodding condescendingly.

"By all means, Ms. Portelli." Feeling that she had just screwed herself over, Linny took one last look at Bailey, before heading towards the door.

However, that pestering voice that was her conscious finally got to her, about four steps later. Groaning, she turned back and pulled out a canister of smelling salts, reviving her coworker, before half-dragging the woman towards the door.

"You can have her, later; I need my entire staff, right now. Lots to do!" An irritated growl-from whom she had no idea-burst out from the room and Linny hustled Bailey forward, ushering the wait staff in after her to, hopefully, distract that person.

* * *

><p>"You just saved my ass!" Bailey sobbed, clutching at Linny as they entered the kitchen. The blonde merely huffed and shoved the distressed woman onto a nearby stool.<p>

"Only for now; get yourself together and start working on orders." The brunette stared at the older woman, lip quivering, before bursting into tears. After the crap she had put her through, Linny was having none of it, and made sure to give her a solid slap to the face.

"I mean it, missy. Finish the cordon bleu, because we have to get the VIPs' food done at the same time, if we want to avoid a diva fit. From any of the men, that is." That seemed to have sobered Bailey up. Nodding, the brown-haired woman stood and walked towards the sinks, not making a peep in protest.

The others seemed spooked by both women's mood changes, all looking at her cautiously, but Linny merely cast them a hardened smile.

"Ready for the late-night dinner rush?"

* * *

><p><strong>So, Linny meets the Rogues (Now that I know the correct way to spell that.). And seems to have pissed one of them off, already. What a brat.<strong>

**Thank you very much, Wayfarer, for your amazing review! I don't know how I overlooked such a simple spelling error, and I'm grateful that you pointed it out to me.**

**Also, thank you Firespin98, I do plan on completing this story. Maybe not in the very-near future, but it will happen!**

'**Til then,**

**Jess**


	5. Grandoise Expectations

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of the Batman or Pacman franchise****s. You can thank DC Comics and Namco, respectively. **

Linny was starting to figure out who had growled. Every one of the Rogues had ordered a three-course meal, at most, with one exception.

The Riddler had ordered a five-course meal, and had made it crystal clear to the now sobbing waitress that Linny was to prepare the entire meal, herself.

"You are royally screwed, my friend." The pastry chef, Mark, announced, sighing in pity as the head chef began to dutifully chop up a mixture of onions, green peppers, and cilantro.

"Why's that? Does he not normally order all this?"

"No; that's why you're screwed. He's testing you; looking for an excuse to complain and bring you back out. You met his challenge and he does _not_ like not having the upper hand." Linny was surprised by Amy's insightful remark. She made a mental note to do a little research on the redhead's history. It was only normal for a manager to want to know her coworkers' backgrounds, of course. Shrugging, she turned several backburners on and began to throw ingredients into some pots, pans, and broilers.

"I'll get it done in time." Amy looked like she was ready to object.

"But-"

"I will. If he feels the need to challenge me, let him. I'm going to get back at him, for sicing his muscled thugs on me, even if it means only matching his grandiose expectations."

"Are you misinformed or just stupid?"

"'Might be both." None of them seemed too happy with her answer. She simply continued cooking.

"Great."

* * *

><p>~.~<p>

Fifteen minutes later, Linny was putting the last decorative touches on her assigned trays, when the dark haired server scurried into the room, more composed now that she wasn't crying. Her hair was messed up, however, and Linny wondered what had gotten her into such a state.

"H-he said not to come back, without the food. Also, if I'm not back in five minutes, he's sendin' someone to bring me back." The blonde wasn't sure which "he" it was, but became irate, nonetheless.

"You'd better get some damn good tips, Sweety. Here; they're all on one cart. King pain-in-the-ass' fourth and fifth courses are in the refrigerator, when he's done with the first three." The young woman tried to suppress a laugh, failed miserably, and then smiled.

"Thanks, Ms.-"

"Seriously, Diane, call me Linny."

"Okay. How'd you know my-?"

"Nametag. Better get a move on, Diane." Once she remembered her time restrictions, the younger woman was gone in a flash. Sighing in relief, Linny turned towards her staff, a wayward smile tugging at her lips.

"Now, we wait."

Thirty painful minutes ticked by, without any sign of Diane, and nobody knew whether to be relieved or worried. It was well past one in the morning and the majority of those in the back of the house [1] were becoming irritable with sleep deprivation. Linny sent the prep cooks home and was starting to become a little impatient.

"They would've called us by now, if someone messed up, right?" She asked, having taken to playing with a sponge, and was presently trying to balance it upright on the nearby counter.

"Yeah, and none of them are delicate eaters, either. Someone must've started an arguem-discussion." As if on cue, Diane came hurrying into the room, a victorious grin on her face. She needed little prompting from the curious bunch to elaborate on her good mood.

"You shoulda' seen his face! It looked like he was trying to hate the first bite, but after he finished, he just kinda' took to starin' at the plate, as if no one but him could cook good food. I think he forgot he ordered two more courses, so I'll doggy bag 'em, since they're wrapping up in there." All the cooks just stared at Diane, confused and disbelieving, especially Linny. Instead of questioning the younger woman, she leaned back against the nearby counter, dispassionately trying to pick eggshells out of her hair. That could have been a good or terribly bad thing, where the Riddler's ego was concerned. She was quick to recompose herself and turned back to her staff.

"Alright, I don't know if you guys do this already, but I want to establish the buddy system. At the end of the day, we're all working for a criminally insane person, so everyone needs to have an escort to their car." She glanced over to Diane, who looked as if she wasn't sure whether she was supposed to be listening in. "This goes double for the wait staff, since they carry their tips around with them, which gives more reason to target them.

Now, I know this sounds sexist, but I want guy-girl buddies for each of you, if it can be helped. Diane, go tell Phil that I want him to walk you out to your car, alright? And tell the rest of the waitresses to buddy up with the bouncers." At the mention of Phil's name, the girl donned a deer struck in the headlights look, but didn't seem willing to argue with Linny's matter-of-fact tone. She tossed her apron in a wash bin, at the far corner of the room, and grabbed her purse.

"Okay; see ya' guys later." With one down, the other four turned to look at Linny in confusion, the action causing her to realize they were the only five people left. She brushed it off and put on a more badass air.

"Well, let's get out of here." Amy was quick to interject.

"Who're you walking out with? I don't want us to lose our new chef, on her first day." She inwardly cringed, but scoffed at the concern in the Sous chef's voice, not fully convincing herself of her own confidence.

"My car's parked right by the door. What could happen in the ten steps I have to take to get to it?" The tell-all looks on their faces suggested they could name plenty of things.

"Quit worrying about me, will ya'? I've only managed to piss one of 'em off, so far." The worry in their faces doubled as she reminded them. Sighing, she told them to go home, before making her way to the main entrance of the building.

* * *

><p>~.~<p>

Someone was following her. She freaking knew it.

How is easy to explain; she had tested it a few times. There was a goon stationed in every hall she walked down, all of which ignored her, but then she would turn back to look at them. Every time, the same goons would be staring at her, suddenly weary of being so close.

Linny wasn't about to bite the bait. She simply continued to head towards the bar, her pace even, even though she felt the compulsion to bolt to her car.

_Oh, good, the bar. _Moving closer, the weary traveler noticed Phil bent over something behind the counter, and a rather juvenile idea popped into her head. Placing her stuff on a nearby table, she quietly maneuvered herself towards the bar, avoiding the squeaky stools. Letting a stupid smirk cross her face, Linny bent over the counter and paused, before screaming.

"Phil!" A shotgun was pulled on her in seconds, and she gasped, before dissolving into hysterical giggles. "Did you wet yourself, or what?" She managed to choke out, trying to decrease her noise level, and somewhat succeeding. Phil, now indignant, shoved the gun back into its hiding spot and cast her a death glare.

"I could've blown a hole the size of a golf ball into your head, you know."

"But you didn't." Linny countered, making herself at home on one of the stools. Phil shook his head and started to mop up the various liquids on the counter, some of them resembling blood. "Busy night?" She asked, looking around at the empty room. There was no sign of whoever had been following her, thankfully, and Linny hoped it would stay that way. The bald man decided not to respond. Instead, he slammed an empty glass onto the countertop, probably hoping to shut Linny up with alcohol.

"What d'you want?"

"Water or Sprite is fine." Linny watched in amusement as his brow arched to where his hairline would have been.

"Are you a lightweight?"

"Yes, but that's beside the point. All that drinking and partying stuff's _behind me; the person _who tries to bring that up must be _behind _the times, when it comes to _me_." She replied, stressing the words she hoped Phil would notice. She saw his eyes flicker to the other side of the room, then settle back on her.

"Strange duck," he commented, filling her glass with Sprite, not needing to pay the slightest bit of attention to it as he did so. "Kind of like the _Riddler._" He muttered, giving a slight nod as he slid the glass to her. Linny felt her stomach go sour, but took a sip of the carbonated drink, regardless.

"Thanks." She sighed, draining about half of it, before rummaging around in her pocket for her wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it. You don't look so hot; you better head home." That sounded like a lovely idea, in Linny's ears.

_The problem: how to get to my car, without being mauled? _She looked up at Phil with suddenly pleading and innocent eyes.

"Phil-?"

"Nuh-uh; not after the stunt you pulled, tonight. I'm not getting tacked with you, if guilt does eventually fall on you, in the near or otherwise future." Linny could see where he was coming from completely.

"Fine," she grumbled, picking herself up. "Thanks for the drink."

Picking up her things, Linny trudged towards the door, mentally daring the one remaining bouncer to say anything to her. He didn't, which was all well and good, but now she was outside and alone in the dark. Shaking off her cowardice, Linny rounded the corner and, as a forcive habit, pressed the remote start to her car. The parking lot instantly lit up and she felt a little relieved as she approached her car.

"You're fond of word games, I presume?" A melodious voice asked, drawing the woman's gaze up from the ground. Aislinn stopped, dead in her tracks, and finally noticed the lean frame reclined against the driver's side of her car. The headlights reflected off the wall provided enough light for her to make out glimpses of green and a bowler hat. Linny froze and contemplated her chances of being able to run back into the Iceberg, when she noticed the two thugs standing guard at the mouth of the parking lot; zilch to none.

"The one you played with the bartender was horribly improvised, I must say. I knew the answer, from the very start: Me." The Riddler struck a theatrical pose, one hand gripping his unmistakable question mark cane, and glanced back at his suddenly silent audience. Linny was looking at him, brow risen, with one hand in her pocket. She honestly didn't know what to make out of the situation, or whether to feel threatened or not, because, well…

_He's sort of a goofball. _She realized, terribly confused, because he was infamous for being the criminal mastermind of Gotham. She simply shrugged those thoughts off.

"I guess that you could say that I don't dislike them. Then again, lots of people say lots of things, so who's to say if you're right?" She thought she saw a glint in his eye as he strode towards her and, in a few swift waltz-like movements, had her backed up against her car. The green clad man loomed over Linny in height, she discovered, as he gently grasped her chin to tilt her face up to meet his gaze.

"A fair question that I just happen to have the answer to. _I _am to say whether I am right. I also happen to be the one to say whether you are right, my dear. Do you understand?" The toothy smile he wore was evidence enough that he doubted it.

Linny took a moment, to take in all of what he just said, and viably bristled.

_If this is his warped way of toying with people, I'm gonna' kick some major ass. _Matching gazes with the grinning man, she narrowed her eyes, a small frown etched into her features.

"You would be right for saying that I don't entirely hate word games. You're terribly wrong for saying that you can determine if I'm right, though." From what Linny could see, he rose a brow at her challenge, a more sober expression diluting his smile.

"Ah, but you are _not_ the one to say so. As far as I can tell, I am the authority of words, here. Where, exactly, does your authority lie?" Linny didn't feel the need to explain herself, as it would cause the conversation to turn in a circle, and she hated talking in circles.

"This is about the Sudoku puzzle, isn't it?" His grip on her chin tightened and Linny flinched before she could stop herself.

"Of _course _this is about the Sudoku puzzle, Darling." She did not appreciate the nicknames he was throwing around while addressing her. She chose to ignore that matter, for the moment, and stuck with trying to rid herself of the determined Rogue.

"Did I get any of it wrong?" She challenged, brow risen to mirror the expression he held. The man in green smiled endearingly at her, as one would smile at a five year old attempting to tie her shoe, for the first time.

"Not in the way you think. In fact, it's the _way _you think that leaves…something to be desired." The now irritated woman managed to bite down on the violent and insulted comebacks she had lined up at the tip of her tongue.

_The way I _think? _I don't even-wait, is he rationalizing how I managed to finish the puzzle? _It occurred to Linny that the man in question had quite possibly created the Sudoku puzzle, himself, and was not happy about the fact that she had solved it in such a short amount of time. _It all comes back to his ego, in the end. _Which, she noted, could become a very dangerous thing to tamper with.

"There is nothing wrong with the way I think." Her sharp tone spoke volumes; it proved that she was losing her usually larger amount of patience, due to exhaustion. Not to mention the fact that a criminally insane man, whom she had just met, was doubting her mental capabilities. The Riddler noticed this and chose to finally relent.

"You don't seem to be in your right mind; such an overrated way to be, after I've spent hours dealing with those incompetent morons." Linny blinked numbly and grasped the small slip of paper the masked man slid into her hand. She tried to suppress a yawn and mentally slapped herself.

_I'm face-to-face, with an infamous Rogue, and all I can manage to do is suppress a yawn._ _Is there something wrong wi-eek! _The Riddler leaned down to look the now more alert woman in the eye, deep hazel eyes coming far too close for comfort. Linny's spine stiffened and her hand tightened on her weapon.

"We'll be in touch." He promised, patting her cheek in mock endearment, before turning and sauntering off.

For once, Linny's mind went blank, but she managed to turn and climb into her car. She got a few blocks away before the little voice in her head decided to pop up.

_Why the hell did I just clam up like that? Cobblepot's much more vicious, and has a longer track record, but I'm fine with messing with him. _She huffed and jerked the wheel to the left as she realized she was drifting off the road.

_More tired than I thought. Hm, it could be because I don't know much about the Riddler. Yeah, that must be it. Fear of the unknown; a very human instinct. _Spotting her apartment building, Linny pulled into the parking lot and managed to park in her assigned spot.

"And now I'm getting all philosophical. I _must _be tired." She mumbled, switching the car off, before heading up to her own apartment.

* * *

><p>~.~<p>

Linny shut-and locked-the front door, sighing in relief, then peeled off her egg and flour coated over shirt. The Pacman tank top underneath was still intact, but she didn't pay this much mind, now focused on something else.

Tugging off her shoes, she padded into her bedroom, smiling as a fuzzy white head popped up from the foot of her bed.

"I'm home, sweet boy." Linny cooed, picking up the Snowshoe kitten from the nest box she had made for it. She knew that her childhood friend, Carrie, had been over earlier to give little Oliver one of his five daily meals. The five-week-old kitten was in much better shape than she had found him, in a deserted alley, and had been gaining weight steadily.

Oliver gave an impatient mewl, trying to suckle one of her fingers, well describing his need of his fifth meal of the day.

"Alright, alright; food for you, and then sleep, for me."

**[1]- A professional term for the preparation area in a restaurant. **

**So, Edward is **_**not **_**happy that Linny solved his (first of many, I assure you) puzzle. I'm sure nothing bad will happen. :}**

**This chapter was longer..ish, because I felt that I should finish up Linny's night in one chapter. Boy, is she up for a surprise, in the very near future. Reviews/subscriptions are loved.**

**-Jess**


	6. Precarious

Linny woke up feeling more sore and cranky than she had before going to bed.

"All that crawling into air vents and being tackled by a hippo man caught up with me, huh? Figures." She struggled to remove herself from her warm bed, but Oliver was already batting impatiently at her face, insisting on his next meal. Rolling her eyes, the still groggy woman half-fell out of bed, and did some ineffective stretches, before beginning her day.

Linny had woken up around ten. By the time she had fed Oliver, washed the remaining eggshell out of her hair, and shot back two cups of coffee, it was closer to two in the afternoon.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something," the fair-haired woman fretted, digging through the pockets of several pairs of pants, before finding her clue.

Linny stared down at the small business card in her hand. She was confused, for a brief moment, but then the memory of the previous night clicked into place. The only thing she found on the business card was "E. Nygma" typed out in an elegant green font. Linny raised a brow and flipped the paper over. What she first thought to be an uneven line turned out to be words so small she couldn't make them out. She was naturally curious and far too stubborn to give up on finding out what the words were, naturally.

"And so, it begins." Sighing, the overly curious woman brought the card into her small kitchenette to dig through one of the drawers. She eventually did find a magnifying glass, and held it over the tiny words, squinting as she read them aloud.

"I have an end but no beginning, a home but no family…" She pulled up, confused, and placed the detective implement on the counter. "That's it?" She wondered, possibilities popping into her head, concerning how else the Riddler had hidden the rest of his riddle on the card. She leaned one hip against the counter while contemplating her next action. Not knowing the rest of the riddle was going to drive her bonkers, so setting it aside was out of the question, as far as she was concerned.

"Some kind of invisible ink…I guess?" Linny furrowed her brow and bit her lip in concentration. She wondered which method she would try first.

_Invisible ink…glow in the dark ink…lemon juice? _[1]After those three, she was at a loss, but she decided try, at least.

After rummaging around for her old black light, standing in her dark bathroom, and going to the drug store to buy some iodine solution (she needed milk, anyway), Linny had nothing to show for it. She had even held the paper up to the sun, and a few different light bulbs, but nothing had come up. The only thing she hadn't held it up to, in fact…

"Worth a try." She muttered doubtfully, approaching her laptop and holding the paper up to it. For a moment, nothing happened, but then three more lines appeared in slightly larger text than the first two. _How freaking lucky did I just get?_

"…A space without room. I never speak, but there is no word I cannot make. What am I?" It only took Linny about a minute to glance down at her keyboard. "The hint was the answer." She realized, making sure the firewall on her laptop was secure, before checking her three email accounts; one for work, one for friends, and one for any family affairs her father felt the need to inform her about. There weren't any unusual messages in any of her inboxes.

"Where does that leave me?" She wondered, glancing over to Oliver, who was sound asleep on the red loveseat by the window.

Linny sort of had a thing for red; her entire bedroom was painted a dark shade of the color and she'd made sure to buy all the kitchen appliances available in red. She had settled for shimmery silver, for the rest of the apartment, because her favorite color seemed to put many people off.

A knock from the front door caught her attention. She cautiously approached it, looking into the peephole, but saw nothing. Suspicious, she cracked her door open, and looked down. A black box sat in front of her, the green question mark on the lid providing an unnerving feeling in her gut while confirming its sender.

"Shit." Linny simply stated, glancing both ways down the hall, and finding familiar looking goons at either end. Stepping back into her apartment, she nudged the lid of the box off with one foot, her instant reaction being to slam the door shut.

"Wait, that's not going to help much," she rationalized, opening the door and carefully picking the flashcard sized paper out of the box, while completely avoiding the ticking bomb nestled beside it. Now, it made sense to slam the door shut, as Linny furtively scanned over the paper that only depicted another question mark. Before her shaking hand could reach for the magnifying glass, however, an electronic ding pulled her attention towards her laptop. Tripping over herself, she scrambled towards it, reading the words "You have one Video Chat request" in disbelief. She tried to recompose herself before clicking "Accept."

There he was, the same infuriating smirk on his face, seeming even more impudent than the last time Linny had laid eyes on him.

"Oh, good, you're not dead." He remarked, face brightening at Linny's dismayed expression.

"No, not yet. What do I have to do to get you to disarm the bomb outside my apartment?" She asked, straight to the point, as most people would be when about to be blown to smithereens.

"Bomb?" Nygma tapped a finger against one temple, feigning confusion, before his eye widened in false realization.

"Ah, _that _bomb." He exclaimed, leaning towards the camera on his end while propping his head up with both hands. "I made it just for you. How much time is left on the timer?" Linny wasn't about to waste time checking the exact amount of time she had. If the man on the other side of the screen wanted to blow up her apartment, then it would happen, regardless of her family roots or business ties.

"Last time I checked? Five minutes." She said, eyes flicking down to the corner of the screen, before returning. She knew that he knew that she was becoming nervous, but didn't spend too much energy thinking about it, even as she fretfully gnawed on her bottom lip. It was a nervous habit that she couldn't quit, and had been doing, since childhood.

"Not very much time left, now, is there?" The Riddler noted, the expression on his face that of mock pity, while the look in his eyes showing that he was immensely enjoying dangling Linny by a string.

"Most wouldn't say so. That being said," she mimicked his stance, "if you did have something you wanted to ask me, I suggest you make it quick. Unless you were planning on picking the answers out of the brain fragments I leave behind, in the debris of my soon-to-be former apartment." When he began to laugh, Linny puffed up in anger, sorely tempted to slam the lid of her laptop shut.

_Bad idea, _she immediately decided. Once the red haired man recomposed himself, which didn't take too long, he turned his gaze back to Linny with renewed interest.

"Surprisingly, you are right; I do have questions," he sighed tiredly, "Ones even I cannot seem to find, by various methods of research." A little put off by the way he had phrased his admittance, Linny nodded, finding it difficult to refrain from making a spiteful comment. Even though he did look genuinely troubled by the fact, the woman felt little pity for him. Her past was solely for her to know, unless she chose to reveal bits and pieces of it to others. This rarely, if ever, happened. Especially concerning people who were threatening to blow her up.

_He's looking for information. The kind that he can use as leverage. This could be dangerous…_She winced while thinking about all the possible negative outcomes. There was no way to tell whether giving or withholding information would be more dangerous. _These are desperate times._ She concluded, already feeling the on-comings of a headache making its way to her frontal lobe.

"I'm sure that I can't answer them all within the," she glanced down at the clock again, "one minute I have left." Linny hinted, sweat trickling down the nape of her neck, as the pressure built from the clock winding down. She was clearly becoming uncomfortable and strange ideas, such as shimmying across to her neighbor's window, started to materialize in her head.

"True," he acknowledged, seeming to be contemplating something, then became silent for a few moments. Linny held her breath, heart fluttering in what she recognized as panic, but was finally able to release it. His expression finally brightened-at the prospect of another riddle, she was sure-and a wave of relief passed over her at the sound of a nearby machine droning down.

"You will soon be receiving the time and address of our meeting place. My time is valuable; try to be punctual, so that something similar to this situation doesn't occur again." She wanted to make a sharp-tongues comeback but, once again, bit her tongue and nodded curtly. Then, before he could get a word in edgewise, she disconnected and slammed the laptop's lid shut.

"Arrogant bastard." She sighed, the small migraine she'd felt tripling in size and demeanor.

_Too much coffee or too little sleep? _She wondered, standing and coddling Oliver as he began to make pitiful mewling noises. "Let's get some chow for you and then pain killers for me, huh?" The kitten just stared at her, looking impatient. Seeing as her attention was focused on the feline, she jumped a little as something was slid underneath her apartment's front door. Sticking her tongue out at it in discontent, Linny cradled Oliver in one arm as she approached the paper staring up at her innocently.

"Talk about rush delivery." She picked up the paper and frowned. The area was familiar and she knew that she wasn't welcome anywhere near Brewed Awakenings Cafe. Sure, it wasn't too far from her apartment complex-a six block commute-,but there would always be dirty looks shot her way whenever she passed the place on foot. This was going to be a challenge.

_It's either word games or physical challenges with this guy._ This _must be another one._ Linny wasn't too concerned with proving her competence to the narcissist. Success in her eyes would be a meager attempt in Nygma's. What did concern her, however, was how she would maneuver her way into the coffee shop. _I must have something in my closet. Besides, it's not until six. _The situation suddenly became foot-in-mouth as she glanced at the clock. The clock's face was nearing ten after five with no intention of slowing or even pausing its advances to six. Groaning, Linny set off to feed Oliver, and then to get ready, really disliking the idea of her apartment being blown up.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<br>**

**[1] I've used this method before. If you write a note using lemon juice, then let it dry on the paper, your note becomes invisible. Iodine solution (also used as an antiseptic) will turn the paper blue and make your note visible. **

**So, Linny is kind of...stuck with playing along. For now. Until she get the chance to sweep her apartment for hidden explosives, at any rate. What is Eddie so determined to find out? Why? The cards will be laid out on the table, soon.  
><strong>

**Also, if anyone is interested: I pretty much only listened to "Stopwatch Hearts" by Delerium, while writing this. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Batman franchises or the "Brewed Awakenings" name. I just like puns.  
><strong>


	7. Connections

Linny made it to the front door of Brewed Awakenings with three minutes to spare. The wooden frame surrounding the large bay window gave the outside a rustic appearance, while the interior was that of a modern coffee shop.

She glanced up and saw that the sign overhead was in the shape of a steaming mug, the café's name printed on it in bold red lettering. Through the permanently foggy window, she could see that there was a moderate amount of people lined up at the till, jittering in place as they waited for their evening caffeine fix.

There were individuals from all walks of life; impatient businessmen, burnt out college students, and exhausted housewives. Linny caught herself staring pensively as a few of them fidgeted in place; being so close to complete strangers was always awkward, sometimes uncomfortable, and had once made her squirm.

There was no way of telling who you would meet in a coffee shop. Had she not been permanently banned from the place, she would have considered stopping by more often, due to her tendencies to people watch. Linny glanced down at her own apparel and wondered if she seemed a little too conspicuous.

Seeing as it _was_ just a coffee shop, Linny had thrown on a pair of jeans and a simple red tee, which she had then thrown a grey hoodie over. She had also put a messy bun in one of her old wigs and slipped into a pair of black flats. The finicky woman didn't usually use makeup, but had covered her own eye color with brown cosmetic contacts and the sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks with concealer, further improving her disguise.

Batting some of the brunette hair of her wig out of her face, she cautiously stepped into the small yet comfortable building, cringing as the tinkling of overhead wind-chimes announced her entrance. A few bored gazes flitted over to her before straying towards more interesting objects.

_I guess I fall in with the dress code. _

She stood there awkwardly, nervous as she scanned the place for a familiar face, before spotting a seemingly abandoned container sitting innocently enough on a table set in the back of the café. With a twinge in the pit of her stomach, Linny meandered towards the table, her gait casual and confident as she idly fretted over the possible contents of her "gift."

_Just because I can't see him doesn't mean he doesn't have eyes and ears all over the place…_Deciding that stalling would not prevent any premeditated plans from occurring, the wary blonde in disguise eyed the telltale green box, before allowing her curiosity to take over and tilting the lid off with an air of trepidation.

Having been prepared to make a run for it, in the case of more explosives rearing their ugly head, Linny would admit to being a little dumbstruck when her gaze landed on the earpiece that sat innocently enough in the box.

She wasn't too keen on the idea of having an electric device Nygma had full control over, so close to her brain, especially with his history of fiascoes involving his fondness of brainwave manipulation.

Then again, she was aware of the fact that failing to do so would get her nowhere, and potentially blown up, depending on the circumstances.

Linny glanced around, only to realize that most of the small crowd in the shop was pointedly ignoring her. The young woman took a calming breath, slipped the small device over one ear, and waited.

A series of beeps, followed by a short crackle of static, nearly made her jump out of her skin, before the noise smoothly transitioned into a familiar voice.

"Nice to see that you could make it, Ms. Portelli. I apologize for my absence, but a more pressing matter requires my attention, and I find myself needing to divide my focus appropriately." Linny nodded stiffly, fully aware that he would have eyes and ears strewn all over the place, even though scanning over crevices and corners yielded no evidence of any cameras or bugs.

"Not like I had much of a choice, but I appreciate the sentiment. Would I regret asking what other business might be preoccupying you?" A loud thump, followed by a crackle and pop, flowed out of the earpiece, the timing almost too convenient.

Sudden movement caught her eye and Linny realized that she had been standing there like an idiot. Collecting the box that her "gift" had come in, the woman waved slyly at a rough looking man staring at her through his peripheral vision from his seat, the gesture hidden as a scratch of her neck. He nodded in response, a fake yawn hiding the movement, as well as displaying the inch-long question mark brooch pinned snugly to his shirt collar.

"You will figure it out, eventually, I assure you. I'd like to focus on the matter at hand, however. My abilities to multitask are refined, but my powers of concentration can only stretch so far, at this time. You understand." Linny nodded, wanting to be rid of the situation she had found herself in. She casually sat herself across from the goon, smiling sharply as she placed the box in the center of the table.

"Then allow me to simplify this for both of us. Ask what you brought me here to ask, and I'll answer what I can." The unnamed man collected the box and brought it outside of her vision on his lap. His grin was a little unnerving and Linny found herself diverting her gaze to an action painting on the wall behind him.

The voice on the other end of the line was smug with a sharp edge to it.

"Let's hope that what you can answer is what I ask for." The box was set on the table and slid back to her, the goon standing up and taking his leave immediately. When Linny peered inside, her eyes narrowed slightly from what she saw, but she remained seated and staring at the framed abstract art.

For once, she thanked her father for putting her through training for high-stress situations. Her exterior remained relaxed and her face calm as she willed her muddled mind to form words through a mouth full of lead.

"Fire away." She mumbled, taking sudden interest in the wall beside her as Betsy, the café's owner and Linny's biggest concern, stepped out from the back room.

If she had been mean before, the incident with Linny years ago, shortly followed by a close call with Zsasz, made the middle aged woman's bite far worse than her bark.

"Now then, I'm not much for looking into matters not pertaining to my interests," Linny subconsciously nodded in agreement, unable to picture him as anything other than narcissistic, "but I couldn't help but notice a particular pattern of results while cross-referencing several completely unrelated topics.

Just imagine my surprise when a familiar name continued reappearing on my radar." The blonde allowed herself to slump forward, the brawny looking man stationed by the door outside indicating that she was penned in, while the long-winded manner in which Nygma worded his sentences indicating that she would not be leaving very soon.

She decided to interject, however, before his speech turned to rambling.

"So, you have some kind or other of incriminating evidence to hold against me or my family. There's no doubt that you already know that we all have access to lawyers for that sort of thing, so I'm guessing it's information that will screw with my personal life.

So, if you're going to go about blackmailing me, then please get to it. The threat of a bomb going off near me, I can handle; but this is just painful."

Three "tsk's" chided her from the other side of the call, and she could just imagine the vein in his forehead throbbing as he held his composure flawlessly.

"Who ever told you that bluntness was the key to these types of situations, I wonder? Either way, this is not the case, and I'd suggest you _hold your tongue _in the presence of unnamed strangers. You may land yourself in an entirely different kind of trouble." The sharpness of his tone was not lost on Linny. She made a mental note of his suggestion, though, as she glanced around the room.

Besides Betsy, who was occupied with a rather long line of customers, there was no one else whom she could guess was paying any attention to her seemingly one-sided conversation. The thought did not comfort her in the slightest.

"Fine. You would be the authority on these kinds of things, I'd guess, but dancing around the issue is boring me. What do you _want?_"

"A true mover and shaker; Just like your father, I see. Very well. Follow the Map and you'll have your answer." The call then abruptly ended and Linny was left with a useless earpiece and the item she had been left with.

"…Map?" She cautiously picked her "present" up from inside the box, and studied it for a moment, before determining that it looked like a normal Rubik's cube, to her.

"Crap." Without another word, Linny stood and made her way out of the coffee shop, turning the cube idly in her hands.

_It _has _to be something I completely suck at, right? Right._ Biting the inside of her cheek, the distraught woman wandered down the sidewalk, headed in the general direction of a park she had always passed but never bothered to visit. She figured settling herself down somewhere to fiddle with the frustrating puzzle was her only option.

"I could have been one of those kids who deconstructing and reconstructing things, but _no_; I was given Barbie's and tea sets. Damn it, Dad…" A pang went through her chest at the memory of her care-free childhood, but she swallowed it down, eyes focusing on the object in her hands.

_Welp, let's see if I can crack you open._

* * *

><p><em><em>**Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own any of the characters affiliated with any of the Batman franchise. I only own the characters I have created.  
><strong>

**I have very few excuses as to why this took so long. I was lazy, had some writer's block, and I suck at prioritizing many things. Bummer. But! I've recaptured my plot bunnies and locked them up tight in my head. They hopefully won't escape any time soon. Here's hoping the next update won't take too long.**

**-Jess**


	8. Not So Secret

To say that Linny's nerves were a little frayed would be understating the situation. By a lot.

A distant "boom," which she knew to be a small explosion, had gone off from the direction she had come from. She could only guess that Brewed Awakening's was no longer where it once stood, and her mind shifted to the great possibility that the incident tied in with her, the thought making her nauseous.

Then, shortly after she had settled herself on a park bench, what she initially assumed to be a stray dog approached her. She noted the breed- that being a Vizsla-which seemed strange, as they were found few and far between, in the city.

After warily glancing at it a few times, however, she noticed the green collar that read the name "Map" and the green digitalized timer winding down from thirty minutes.

_He planned this. He planned this entire scenario, didn't he? _She thought, aghast, before turning her full attention towards the cube in her hands. She could freak out later; there was no time for it, just then.

_Alright, six colors for six sides; red, yellow, blue, orange, white, and green. There _would _be green, humph. Might as well start with that one._

As she began to turn the sections of the cube, the Vizsla settled on the bench beside her, and seemed to be calmly observing her panicked state, a calm beacon amidst the hazy chaos surrounding the woman.

"Oh, and you're a spy, too, I take it? Well, you're awfully conspicuous, just so you know." Rolling her eyes at the fact that she was talking to a dog, Linny continued to work the hunk of plastic, noting that she had twenty-five minutes left.

_What happens after that? Another explosion? But where? Maybe my apartment; maybe right here. Would the Riddler plant a bomb on a dog? _A quick glance assured her that said dog was in little to no distress. _Nah. _

With one row of green put together, Linny continued her task, huffing when she had to go backwards to make any progress. She managed to get all but one row, as the timer hit three minutes.

With curses filling her mind, and her fingers sore from gripping the puzzle, the woman's eyes rapidly flickered from the timer and back. Sweat formed along her brow and her heart puttered uneasily. As the timer winded down to ten seconds, she slid the last block into place, a click sounding, before the cube opened.

A relieved laugh escaped her throat, but as she peered into the hidden compartment, all she could see was a dog biscuit.

"You're kidding me, right?" She asked, turning towards the dog to stare incredulously at it. It merely huffed and patiently waited for her to hand over the treat it had been waiting for.

"Guess not." With a sigh, she placed the biscuit next to the Vizsla, which promptly picked it up with its mouth and dismounted the bench, only to walk calmly towards the park's entrance. The dog was about out of sight when it dawned on Linny.

"'Follow the Map.' Map…the Map. Oh shi-!" Rubik's cube forgotten, she leapt to her feet and sprinted towards where "Map" had disappeared, another bout of curses flowing through her mind in rapid-fire succession.

_Where's that damned pooch? If I lose him- _Her thoughts cut off as she barely managed to avoid colliding into a muscle-bound man. Whipping her head around wildly, she spotted a sleek russet-brown mass about fifteen feet ahead. Map was calmly walking at a casual pace, eliciting some confused stares from other civilians, some of whom managed to stand aside to let him pass.

Shaking her own surprise off, Linny began her own brisk walk down the sidewalk, not as fortunate as her guide, as far as being let through the crowd went. She continued this tense dance, for about two blocks, before being able to slowly approach the dog.

Said dog was sitting next to an unoccupied green car, staring at her, as if waiting for her to let him in.

The color of the car should have been enough of a warning to her, but Linny knew that the dog was her only lead, so she threw caution to the wind and opened the passenger's side door. Map gave a huff, and hopped into the car, making himself comfortable in the middle of the back seat. No alarms went off, and no one was around to give her any cursory glances, so she felt she was in the clear.

Linny had crept over to the other side, and slipped into the driver's seat, when everything around her went haywire.

Before her hand could twitch towards them, the locks snapped into place, disappearing into the pencil-sized holes in the doors' paneling. Then, as if a button had been pressed somewhere nearby, the car roared to life. Stifling the surprised shout lodged in her throat, Linny immediately turned the radio's volume down to a manageable level.

_Another goddamn rat trap. I literally walked into it, too. Son of a-_

"Aislinn, Aislinn, Aislinn. Did your father not tell you never to get into a car with strangers?" A familiar albeit unwelcome voice rang from the car's sound system. Glaring into the rearview mirror, Linny flopped back in her seat, remembering Map's presence as he huffed in a rather unimpressed manner.

"He never did mention the rule applying to dogs." She ground out, keeping fully alert of her surroundings.

"Well that's too bad for you, then, isn't it? Moving on from your quite obvious pity-party, let's see if you can get yourself out of the situation, shall we?"

"Don't think I have much of a choice. Let's get this over with." She groaned, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips as she heard him give an indignant sniff.

"You're in an awful rush for someone whom is not going anywhere, aren't you? Very well, then.

_I have a mouth but cannot eat; a bed to lay in, but never sleep. My bank is full, with nothing to spend; I'll give a wave, but have no hands. _What am I?" She stared at the steering wheel in front of her, vowing to listen to her intuition the next time a situation like that came up. And it would, she was sure.

If she got out of her current situation, that was.

_What has a bank, a mouth, and a bed? It doesn't have hands-ulk! _Her eyes straying to the radio's clock lead her to notice the timer winding down from thirty minutes.

_This guy and that number, I swear. Okay, so, I have thirty minutes to figure out where this is and _get _there. Great. _Hoping to find any sort of hint, she peered into the glove compartment and center console of the car, being rewarded with a slightly outdated map and a completely filled crossword puzzle book.

_Flowers can be grown in a bed, but the wave part doesn't make any sense. Wave as in water? Which body of water? Rivers have mouths leading into the ocean. A riverbed? _

Linny scanned the map, locating the three main rivers bordering the city. It would take her far more time than thirty minutes to travel along the length of all three.

"Unless…" The woman couldn't suppress the gasp in her throat, her thoughts shooting to the place she had been, just the day before.

_Jesus! Does this man have eyes everywhere? How does he even know about that place? _Placing the heated question on the backburners, just then, Linny secured her seatbelt and shifted the car into drive, rolling her eyes as Map gave a worried whimper.

"Everyone's a critic." She commented dryly, grateful that the after-work traffic had at least subsided.

Confident that she knew exactly where she was going, Linny headed west, glad that the rogue toying with her had the decency to leave her to her thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>Late, late, late update. But life happens, so meh. You can thank Macklemore and Celldweller and their songs for kicking my butt into gear and getting inspiration to write this. Not to forget all the watches and reviews. That made me happy. Feel free to yell at me to update between now and the undisclosed date that I actually can update. It helps. <strong>

**Til then,**

**Jess**


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